


always gold

by halesbunnyteeth (lautjuh1)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternative Universe - No Hockey, Coffee Shops, Fluff, M/M, Watching the Sunrise, parks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 14:26:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11382054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lautjuh1/pseuds/halesbunnyteeth
Summary: Derek looks like fall; the good parts of it, at least, when the sun is shining through the cracks of red and orange trees, when everything is just a little softer and warmer and nicer. Kent always liked fall best, anyway.Or: the one where Kent and Derek both visit the park every morning to watch the sunrise, and their lives become infinitely more intertwined.





	always gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladymars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymars/gifts).



> Written for the prompt "College AU? Yeah, you heard me. No hockey, either. Nursey's at college, Kent's a townie, and they both go to the same park to watch the sun rise and have feelings."

There’s a certain serenity that comes with being alone somewhere in the dead of morning with nothing but the sunrise to distract one’s thoughts that is rare to find. It is even more difficult to find a place like that in Samwell. It may be a small enough town that Kent knows most bars and coffeeshops downtown and greets his neighbors by name, but it’s large enough that there are usually people around whatever the time of the day, or night, as the case may be—commuters travelling to work, drunks looking for a place to crash, dog owners taking their beloved four-footer out for a walk before the rest of their family wakes up to face a new day.

Kent is exactly none of those things. Instead, he is a chronic insomniac with the tendency to get bored and, granted, the beloved owner of a cat that has the habit of scratching his bedroom door in the morning until he gets out of bed to take her out for a walk.

Currently, Kit is examining a pile of leaves that has formed on top of a near-by tree trunk. Autumn is just around the corner, and with it comes a welcome change of weather. Kent isn’t a summer person, no matter how many times Jeff teases him for his habit of wearing shorts as soon as the thermometer hits the high 60’s. This park, his favorite place in Samwell, is the perfect embodiment of what Kent likes about fall; the dark shadows of the trees contrasting starkly with the way the rising sun hits the water of the river, the orange hues filtering everything in a warm light.

The park is located at the outskirts of Samwell, far enough away from the central quad that people rarely venture here this early in the morning. Later on in the day, when the weather’s as good as it’s been recently, it usually fills up with students spreading out with text books, trying to get some moments away from the stuffy university library, and young families with screaming children. For now, though, he is perfectly content feeling like the only person awake in the whole wide world, his cat purring at his feet and the whole day open in front of him.

***

When Kent gets to the park the next morning, Kit tucked securely in a basket on the front of his bike, there is a man on his bench. It’s the only one near the river bank that has a lantern next to it, and he is using it to read, too focused to even notice when Kent cycles past him to the next bench. Disconcerted, he scoops Kit from her basket and places her on the ground. She walks away with her head held high, right to the place where she usually sits if she’s not out exploring the park – on the bench right next to the stranger. Damn it, Kit.

The man’s attention is finally diverted away from his book when she presses her head against his leg. Kent curses under his breath and walks over to scoop her away.

“Sorry,” he says, quietly, as to not disturb the silence of the early morning.

The man looks up, at that, and Kent is completely thrown for a moment because-

Wow.

This guy is probably the most gorgeous guy Kent has ever seen in his life, with a jawline that Kent could probably cut himself on and grey eyes that are now looking sincerely into Kent’s.

“No problem,” he says.

Kent kind of just… removes himself from the situation, awkwardly moving back with Kit meowing loudly in his arms. It’s too early to deal with this kind of shit.

(Of course Kit goes back over there five minutes later and the man, who Kent has immediately renamed The Most Beautiful Man In The World, simply starts petting her without even looking up from his book. He leaves before they do, and she meows pitifully as he stands up; he says something quietly to her, something Kent can’t pick up from where he’s sitting, and then nods towards Kent. Kent spends the rest of his day feeling slightly off-kilt).

***

The Most Beautiful Man In The World is there the next day, as well. And the day after. And that day after _that_. In fact, he’s there every single morning for the rest of the week. They don’t speak to each other. Other than a short nod, they barely even acknowledge each other. It still throws Kent completely off-balance.

He likes his life structured, sue him. And he’s been going to the same park every single morning for months now, since almost immediately after he moved back to Samwell, just sitting there and thinking and feeling. Having someone else be there, someone so beautiful, to boot, throws off his… chi or whatever, Kent is not an expert in these things, but _something_ is happening and it’s disconcerting.

The first two days, he’d hoped that scowling at the side of the man’s head would make him leave, but he’s engrossed in his books, and seems completely oblivious of Kent, only redirecting his attention to Kit whenever she comes begging for his attention or to the river right as the sun comes up. The orange hues light up his skin in the most gorgeous of ways—warm, like he fits in right with the autumn trees and the sunlight. Life is, truly, unfair. The third day, Kent tries his best at harnessing his inner power to mentally signal the guy to leave, but- honestly, he doesn’t believe in all that crap, anyway. The fourth day, he tries to go back to his own routine- meaning, mostly, staring at the water and overthinking his life choices, which at this moment seem to lead back to The Most Beautiful Man In The World anyway.

It’s pretty hopeless. _He_ is pretty hopeless.

On the sixth day, in the afternoon, he catches himself having stared at the same Excel-sheet for ten minutes straight. He berates himself; vows that, starting tomorrow, The Most Beautiful Man In The World will just be a normal guy who Kent is not affected by whatsoever.

***

On the seventh consecutive day after he first showed up, the Most Beautiful Man In the World doesn’t show up. Kent is not disappointed, really; he wanted the quiet of the park back, and now he does. For some reason, he moves to the bench further back, anyway. Kit sits on the bench where the guy usually sits, meowing loudly. He scowls at her. She doesn’t move back to him until he moves to leave. So now the Most Beautiful Man In The World is even ruining his park day when he’s _not_ there. Typical.

“You’re just jealous that your hell cat likes someone besides you,” Jeff says easily when Kent tells him about it, leaning over the table to steal a piece of hash brown from Kent’s plate.

“I’m not- jealous,” Kent protests. “I just don’t _get_ it. I don’t see the _appeal_ of him, that’s all.”

Now _that_ captures Jeff’s attention. He looks up from where he’s eyeing Kent’s plate, eyes shining and _, shit_ , Kent knows _that_ look. “So he’s attractive, huh?”

“No I- that doesn’t even- Why would you-”

Jeff laughs. “You’re so predictable, damn. _Now_ I understand why you’ve spent the last week complaining about him.”

“I most certainly did _not_.”

“ _Did too_. It was all _park guy this, park guy that_ , and _did you know that I sit in that bench every single morning?_ ” Jeff says in a quite frankly _terrible_ impression of Kent. “Man, I can’t believe I’m only figuring this out now. I’m losing my touch.”

“You’ll lose you touch if you don’t stop talking,” Kent grumbles illogically and bats Jeff’s hand away as he’s trying to steal a piece of bacon from his plate.

“Ha! Not happening,” Jeff says, and steals the bacon after all.

*****

The next morning, the Most Beautiful Man In The World is back again, and Kent would like to say that he doesn’t let out of soft sigh of relief to see him again, but he really sort of does. Jeff will never need to know. Kit all but jumps out of the basket when Kent parks his bike, almost _running_ back to his bench. Kent scowls at her—she _never_ runs.

He has his eyes buried in a book on his lap, and seems slightly startled when she pushes up against his legs. Then he smiles, though, just a small quirk of the lips, and he reaches down to stroke her back. For a short moment he looks up, catching Kent’s eyes with his and nods. Then he looks back down at Kit, who is looking perfectly content with the attention.

“Hey there, beautiful,” he says. “You miss me, huh?”

She meows and falls onto her back, offering up her belly, like she hasn’t had any attention in her entire life. Traitor. The man indulges her, scratching just below her chin and up and down her belly until she starts purring, then absentmindedly continues as his attention goes back to his book.

Kent goes back to his vow he’d made two days earlier, and stares at the water, purposely not looking over to the other bench. Still, he’s consistently aware of his presence. It’s very annoying.

Kit doesn’t join him when he unlocks his bike, so he takes it by the hand to walk over to her. She is now lying contently on bench, head tucked against the guy’s legs.

“Her name is Kit,” Kent offers up, lacking a better opening.

The Most Beautiful Man In The World startles, looking up. His eyes are even more beautiful when the sun is up, Kent discovers, the warm light reflecting in them, making his whole face bright up.

“Oh,” he says. “Thanks. Hi Kit, nice to meet you.” She meows softly.

“You ready to go home, princess?” Kent asks her. Finally, she gets up and jumps elegantly to the ground, until he can pick her up and put her in her basket. Kent nods to the guy, unsure on a better way to greet him, and cycles off. He doesn’t check to see if they’re being watched off. He kind of hopes they are.

***

The next morning, when they go to leave and Kent comes pick up Kit from the exact same spot, the Most Beautiful Man In The World looks up at him and says, “bye Kit and owner” with a small smile, and on a whim Kent says back, “it’s uh, it’s Kent”.

The smile gets a little big broader. “Nice to meet you Kent, I’m Derek.”

***

“Ooooh, Derek, I like that name,” Eve says through the shrilly speaker of his phone. “He sounds hot.”

 “He’s too old for you,” is Kent’s automatic reply.

“As if,” she throws back. “Doesn’t matter, anyway, like I’m ever gonna go for anyone you have the hots for. I’m not a jerk.”

“ _You are_ though.”

“Brat.” She laughs. “Okay, you’re right, I kind of am. But I’m not an asshole. So. Tell me about him.”

“Nothin’ to tell,” he says. “He’s just _really_ beautiful. I don’t actually know him. ”

“Time to do something about that, then, bro.”

***

He does. The next morning, he strikes up a short conversation with Derek before he walks over to his own bench (his _new_ own bench, to be correct, because Derek is still taking up his old one). The morning after that, it’s raining, so he doesn’t go, but the morning after that he arrives at the park before Derek does, and he sits down where he used to sit.

“You’re in my spot,” is the first thing Derek says when he arrives, but there’s a smile in his voice.

“Tough,” Kent says. “I’ll have you know that this was _my_ spot before you decided to grace this park with your presence, and I’m taking it back.”

Derek laughs. “Fine. But you’re going to have to be okay with sharing it.”

“I think I can manage that.”

From then on, Kent sits down on his old bench every morning, whether or not Derek is already there. Kit is absolutely delighted to have the both of them in the same place.

***

The first time Kent sees Derek outside of the park, it catches him completely off-guard. He walks into Annie’s on his break, determined to just pop in and out for his to go order and catch the last rays of sunshine, before the forecasted rain decides to arrive. He’s listening to music, head moving along with the beat, which probably explains why it takes him a while to realize that the person waving from the other side of the room is waving _at him_. When he looks over, apologetically, he is taken aback to find Derek’s dark eyes focused on him.

“Oh,” he breathes, quickly taking out his ear plugs. He waves back, feeling a little stupid, mouths, “sorry”, and gestures something that he hopes conveys ‘I’ll just order first.’

On a whim, he orders pumpkin spiced latte.

Derek is moving stuff away from the chair next to him, gesturing at him to sit down, when Kent finally makes it to the table. Kent hesitates for a moment—he’d wanted to go out, after all—but sits down anyway.

“Hi,” Derek says, “Sorry, am I keeping you from something? You don’t have to stay here if you don’t-”

“You’re not,” Kent interrupts. “I have the feeling I’m keeping you from something, though.” He nods towards the numerous text books strewn across the table, sticky notes covering the pages, markers in different colors underlining words and pointing arrows from one paragraph to another.

Derek shrugs. “Nah, I was due a break anyway. Plus it’s nice to see you somewhere else, you know? I was almost starting to wonder if I’d made you up. You know, mysterious guy only showing up at the dead of morning when no one else is around.”

“I do, really,” Kent deadpans. “I’m a figment of your imagination.”

Derek laughs, eyes crinkling in the corners. “My subconscious has good taste, then.”

Kent raises his eyebrows, trying desperately not too blush.

“I mean your cat, of course,” Derek says, winking. “Although—she’s not here today, so maybe I didn’t make _her_ up?”

“Nah, we’re a package deal.”

“Alright then,” Derek says, smiling. He tilts his head to the side, looking intently at Kent like he’s considering something. “I guess you’re not too bad, either.”

Kent shakes his head, smiling.

“So, what’s all this?” he asks, not at all subtlety trying to change the subject. He picks up one of the textbooks. “Advanced mathematics, huh? What’s your major?”

Derek shrugs. “Engineering.”

That surprises Kent. He’d been convinced would have done something more- creative, he guesses; there’s just something about the way Derek carries himself that suggest theatre, maybe, or music. He doesn’t look too enthused about it, either, but they really do _not_ know each other well enough to start prying. Instead he says, “cool”, and picks up another text book.

“This is… different.”

Derek laughs, taking over the book from him. _Women and literature_ , the cover reads.

“Just an elective,” he says. “It’s really cool though. We’re going into all these authors that have written under male names, but research has shown they were probably written by women, or _with_ women at least. Do you know how many authors got credit for work that was actually their wife’s or sister’s or…” And with that, he’s off on a tangent about feminist works and hidden documents and era-specific typography. Kent finds that he’s absolutely devastating when he’s passionate; his eyes light up and his gestures are wide and his words are like poems.

Kent is absolutely fucked.

He’s also ten minutes late coming back into work. It’s completely worth it.

***

“You’re not too bad, either?” Jeff repeats that afternoon. “Boy, he’s _flirting_ with you. You were on a _date_ today.”

(It’s been… a long time since Kent lasted dated. Hooked up, sure. Hung out at a party and then snuck off to an empty bedroom to fool around, once or twice. Gotten guys’ phone numbers and called them to come over a couple days later, plenty of times. No _dates_ though, sitting around without necessarily the prospect of sex at the end, just getting to know the other person. Kent is not- good, for people, really.).

“Was not. We just ran into each other and had coffee together, doesn’t count.”

“If you like him, and he likes you, and you sat together for half an hour drinking coffee and talking, I have news for you, my friend – you be datin’.”

“I hate it when you say things like that,” Kent complains. “And anyway, you can’t know that he likes me, and I’m telling you, it wasn’t a date.”

“He thought he’d _made you up_ , so…” Jeff says, as if that explains anything.

"So what?"

"So what?! People don't make up people that they're not interested in, Parse. Also, he thinks you’re _mysterious_. He spends his entire coffee break talking to you, voluntarily I might add. He _likes_ you. _Lawyered_.”

“I hate you.”

***

They talk more often, after that. It’s a remarkably easy change. Lately, their mutual reading sessions had become intertwined with talking, anyway.

Things Kent learns about Derek about during this time:

His name is Derek Malik Nurse.

He used to live in Manhattan with his moms, but they moved overseas for his mother’s new job in Derek’s junior year of college, and he misses them something fiercely.

He attended a fancy boarding school, where he was popular enough but still hated most people, except for this weird bro-y guy with a mustache and a ridiculous first name, and one teacher who he’s still in contact with (“my English prof”, he says with a reminiscent smile. “She gave me something to- distract myself with, I guess”).

He has a roommate that he’s in some sort of weird feud with. Dex is on the hockey team, and- “he’s uh… passionate, would be a nice way of saying it” (“so, a dick?” Kent asks; “nah, just angry at the world, I guess”).

He speaks several languages, and hearing him talk in _any_ of them is truly Something Else and by that Kent _definitely_ means that it’s really very hot.

He is cranky if he doesn’t get his morning coffee (Kent discovers this when, one morning, Annie’s is closed for some reason before Derek gets to the park, and he spends the whole time staring grumpily at his book, even as he still indulges Kit’s belly scratches. It’s adorable).

He’s smart, like _god damn_.

He’s also a really good guy, who does engineering rather than English, because there’s no money to be made in poetry and he doesn’t want to live off of his parents’ money (“They’re completely self-made, you know? They come from nothing, and they’re so amazing and hard-working and that’s who I want to be as well”).

He is clumsy as hell, and Kent has to save him from spilling coffee all over himself more than once.

He’s really, _really,_ a thousand times too good for Kent.

Things Kent learns about himself during this time:

He is falling completely over-the-heels in love with Derek and there’s probably nothing that he can do to stop it.

***

Derek looks like fall, Kent thinks absently. The good parts of fall, anyway, when the sun is shining through the cracks of red and orange trees, when everything is just a little softer and warmer and nicer. He smells like fall, too, Kent discovers one day when Derek moves in a little to pick a fallen leaf from Kent’s hair, winking before he blows it away—like pumpkin spice

Jeff laughs for ten minutes straight when Kent tells him this.

“He’s turning you into a goddamn poet, Parse,” he says. “Never knew you had it in ya.”

***

“So she comes up to me and she says, ‘Mr. Parson, I will have you know’-”

“Wait,” Derek interrupts. “Your name is Kent Parson?”

“Yeah,” Kent says.

“And you named your cat _Kit Purrson?_ ”

“… Yeah?”

“Did you _name_ your cat after yourself?” Derek asks.

Kent scratches the back of his neck, flushes. “… Maybe.”

And Derek laughs and laughs and laughs.

***

The second time Kent sees Derek outside of the park, they almost quite literally run into each other; Kent is jogging along the water and Derek is half-running too, bag strapped to his back and books tucked under his arm, with an apologetic smile when he sees Kent: “Late for class, gotta go”. He drops his books 20 meters later, so Kent turns around to help him pick them up. He gets a bright smile and a “see you tomorrow” for his troubles.

The third time Kent sees Derek is at Annie’s, again, but Kent’s on a quick coffee run for his co-workers so they only talk for a minute after he’s picked up his order.

The fourth time Kent sees Derek outside of the park, he asks him for dinner.

It happens like this: Kent is leaving the Stop ‘n Shop on a Saturday with a paper bag full of groceries just when Derek’s about to walk in, eyes focused so firmly on the screen of his phone that he barely notices that the door almost falls shut in his face. Kent’s arm shoots out just in time to pull it back open.

“How are you even still alive?” he says.

Derek finally looks up, sheepish smile on his face, but expression brightening considerably when he sees Kent, which is… nice.

“Guess I’ve got an angel looking out for me, huh,” he winks. His eyes flitter over Kent’s bag. “That’s a lot of groceries for one small guy.”

Kent shakes his head, but doesn’t rise to the bait. They’ve had the ‘I’ll have you know I am completely averaged sized, thank you very much’ and the subsequent ‘Oh, I’m sure not _everything_ about you is average’ talk before, and it had already left him flustered enough to last him a lifetime.

“I like to cook in batches,” he says, instead.

“Nice,” Derek says easily. “What are you making?”

“Oh. It’s a stew?” he says, not sure why he’s making it into a half-question. “Some pasta to go with it.”

Derek whistles lowly. “Aren’t you full of surprises.”

Kent isn’t sure what to do with that, so he shrugs. “My mom worked long hours. So.”

Derek chuckles. “Well, now I feel _really_ bad about my ramen-and-boiled-eggs plan for tonight.”

“Ugh,” Kent says. “You are such a college student.”

“Well, excuse me, mister fancy-pants. Not everyone has a nice-ass kitchen. Or, you know. Cooking skills.” Derek smiles again. “Anyway, enjoy your dinner.” He moves to take over the door from Kent, who is still awkwardly holding it open. The movement brings them closer together, and Kent smells a whisk of nice cologne and minty breath.

“Thanks,” he says. “You too, I guess.”

“Jerk,” Derek says, but it sounds decidedly fond.

Kent takes a step outside, then turns around just as Derek is about the close the door behind him.

“Hey,” he says.

The door stops moving. Derek’s eyebrows move up in a silent question.

“You, uh-” He clears his throat. “Do you want to join me for dinner? Have some actual food, for a change?”

Derek grins. “Well, if you’re _offering._ ”

***

“Parse. Parser. Kenny.” Kent can’t see Jeff, but he _knows_ he’s grinning, can just hear it in his voice. “I am _so_ proud of you, making the first move. Who’d have seen it coming, folks?”

“I didn’t make the first move,” Kent says. “This is not a date. I don’t really do dates, remember?”

He cuts up an onion into small pieces, mixes it in with the garlic. The pan on the stove is warming up on a low heat; in a moment, he’ll throw in a chunk of butter.

“What are you talking about?” Jeff says. “You date _all_ the time. What about that redhead like a month ago- uh, Darren? Dylan?”

“David. We weren’t dating, though.” He starts cutting up the tomatoes into small cubes.

“You certainly _seemed_ to be, that one time. I saw much more of that guy’s body than I’d have liked.”

Kent laughs. “That’s what you get for waltzing into my flat at dead o’clock in the morning, Swoops. And anyway, sex isn’t dating.”

“You went out with him before.”

“We went _clubbing_. There isn’t a whole lot of talking involved.”

“Still counts,” Jeff argues.

“No, it doesn’t. I don’t date, Jeff.” He cuts into the next tomato a little more vigorously. Red juice sprays everywhere.

“Why not, though?”

He doesn’t actually really know, except that he’s anxious and doesn’t always like himself and he _massively_ fucked things up with the one guy he was ever serious about, so it’s really just- easier.

“I’m really not good enough for him,” he says, eventually.

“That's bullshit,” Jeff says, then drops the subject anyway, because he’s a good friend, but he stills ends the conversation with “have fun on your non-date. Don’t forget to wash your sheets.”

***

Derek arrives at 7.15, a bottle of Merlot in his hand and a disarming smile on his face. He looks around Kent’s apartment with interest as he gets the tour.

“Nice place,” he says.

It’s nothing special, but it’s home, for Kent. It must be a step up compared to Derek’s shared dorm, at any rate. He says as much, and Derek laughs, not in the slightest bit insulted.

“Yeah, you don’t have a Republican Irish dude to deal with on a daily basis,” he says.

“Roommate still giving you troubles?”

“Oh no, not at all. We just, uh, disagree a lot. He’s kind of… uptight, you know? I’m a lot more…”

“… Chill,” Kent guesses.

Derek laughs loudly. He does that a lot, Kent has noticed. It’s kind of distracting. He turns away to open the bottle of wine before he gets too flustered. Derek follows him into the kitchen.

“Sorry,” he says, still laughing. “It’s just that Dex has banned that word in our house.” There’s a joke in there, somewhere, that Kent is missing, but Derek doesn’t elaborate and he’s not sure if he should ask. They’re quiet for a moment while Kent busies himself looking for red wine glasses in the back of his cupboard.

“I know I complain about him a lot, but we actually do get along.”

“I’m glad,” Kent says. “Though I can’t really imagine anyone not liking you, so.”

Derek smiles at him, small and genuine. “Thanks. Likewise.”

They look at each other for a couple of moments, smiling stupidly, until Kent offers Derek his wine and they clink their glass together.

The rest of the night goes back in a pleasant haze of food and wine and good conversation, and when Derek leaves, he leans in for a hug and a peck on Kent’s cheek.

“Thanks for dinner,” he says.

“Anytime,” Kent says, and he hopes it conveys that he really means _anytime_.

***

 “Okay, so it might’ve been a date,” Kent says the next day when Jeff slides into the booth across from his for lunch. “Maybe.”

“Told ya,” Jeff says. “You think he’s gooorgeous. You want to kiiiss him. You want to huuug him.”

Kent rolls his eyes. “ _Yes_ , _okay_ , stop it.”

“Sorry. I’m just glad you’re acknowledging it,” Jeff says. “I just want you to be happy.”

***

On Wednesday, after a grueling morning of meetings and notes and phone calls from angry clients, Kent is confronted with Jack Zimmermann for the first time in a long time.

Not _physically_ , of course, but his picture is there, all over the front page of his paper, looking all sweaty and powerful.

He doesn’t actively go looking for news about Jack anymore. He used to, back when Jack was still Zimms, when the pain of Jack’s rejection was still an open wound. Now, though, it’s more like a scar that sometimes stings, nothing more, and he hasn’t thought about slashing it back open for long. He’s not actually sure when he stopped looking, but there you have it.

He can’t miss it now, though, Jack’s face and the screaming headline: _JACK ZIMMERMANN GAY?! FALCONERS CAPTAIN CENTRE-ICE PROPOSAL._

His work doesn’t give him time to read the entire article, and that night he has plans with some co-workers and doesn’t come home until late, so he takes the newspaper with him when he goes to the park the next morning. Derek isn’t there, yet, so Kent takes the time to read the piece. It’s full of conjecture and bad writing, but it’s enough that Kent can get the gist of the story of Jack Zimmermann and Eric Bittle, the small blonde baker who Jack has apparently been dating for the past few years. Supposedly, they met in Providence and got involved in a whirlwind romance, although knowing Jack, Kent kind of takes that part with a big grain of salt.

Although, Jack apparently did change _enough_ that he actually went for the public proposal. Kent always knew that Jack was kind of extra in everything he did, but to come out like this is a lot.

It’s funny how out of touch you can be with someone you’d known so well for such a long time.

Jack was a fixture in Kent’s life for so long. They used to play hockey together, although it became clear very fast that Jack would make it a lot further, and, anyway, hockey was kind of expensive, so Kent quit. They’d remained friends though, for years; started dating, hooking up, whatever, when they were 16, all throughout the rest of high school. But then there was this thing where Jack almost OD’d, and then he moved away, to Canada, for a couple of months, and then back to Providence when he was drafted, but by then Kent had moved across the country for college and that was… that.

But he’d always been this thing, in Kent’s head, like a _the one who got away_ , almost, even if Kent _knew_ that was ridiculous.

And now he finds out that Jack has been living this entire life that Kent wasn’t aware of, with teammates and friends and a _boyfriend_ – fiancé, now - that Kent has never seen before.

It’s not, bad, or anything. Just… weird, is all.

He’s still pondering about it when Derek shows up, ten minutes later, with two steaming cups of coffee and a paper bag.

“Brought you breakfast,” he says, with a small smile, and Kent’s heart leaps at the gesture.

“Thanks,” he says, and folds the paper away to accept the cup.

Derek takes a look at the headline as Kent does so.

“What do you think of that, then?”

Kent sighs.

“So many things,” he says. “But I’m- happy for them, mostly. Zimms is a good guy. He deserves-” He trails off, not sure what it is he actually thinks Jack deserves. A lot. Nothing. Something in between.

“Zimms, huh? You know him?”

“I do. Or did, I guess.”

Derek looks at him for a couple of moments, and seems to pick up on something, because he slowly reaches over to take the newspaper turns it over, so Jack is no longer looking at them.

“And you, Kent Parson,” he says with an easy smile, “What do you deserve?”

Kent swallows. “Probably a whole lot less than I’d like.”

Derek shakes his head, his hand coming to rest on Kent’s restless knee. “Nah,” he says, “probably a whole lot more than you believe.”

And Kent-

Kent actually starts believing that maybe Derek is right.

***

The next morning, the weather is bright and clear, yet Derek isn’t there.

It's fine, it really is, except Kent is a creature of habit and his routine now involves sitting on a bench with the guy he is half in love with, and so he spends the rest of the day feeling disconcerted. It’s fine. He's an adult. He can deal with this.

Except Derek isn't there the next morning, either. To be fair, it’s kind of grey and dreary today, with Kent having taken an umbrella with him, looking up to the sky in concern every couple of minutes to see if it isn't going to rain. He still waits for longer than he nor all would have, and cycles home while the clouds open up above him.

When Derek fails to show up for the third morning in a row, Kent starts to worry. First, he goes over every single conversation they’ve had over the last few days, repeating the words in his head to check if he said something wrong. Failing to come up with something, he starts to wince whether Derek maybe like… met somebody else, and forgot about Kent (and Kit, who has been meowing pitifully for three days straight). Then, his mind jumps to all kinds of terrible conclusions of something happening to Derek, and he has his phone half way out of his pocket be for he realizes he never got Derek's number.

“You’re being overdramatic,” Eve tells him.

“Am I?” he asks. “ _Am I?!_ ”

“It’s only been three days. He’s probably ill or something.”

“Well, that-“ he splutters. “What if that’s not it, though? What if he decided he _hates_ me?”

“Why would he hate you,” she says in a non-question.

“Because I’m the worst!” he whines.

“Well, _I_ know that’s true, but how would _he_ have figured that out?”

“ _EVE_!”

She laughs and hangs up on him. Rude.

***

On Saturday morning, it's raining again, and Kent considers not going to the park, but there's something in the way Kit is clawing at his bedroom and the queasiness of his stomach that prompts him to get out of bed and out of the house anyway. He puts on a raincoat and secures Kit in the basket with a plastic sheet over it to keep the water out, with just enough of a gap to let her breathe.

He's completely soaked by the time he arrives.

Derek isn't there.

He tries to tell himself he's not completely disappointed, but he doesn't even fool himself for one second.

Kit meows from in her basket,

“I'm sorry, princess," he says. "We'll go home.”"

He's about to turn around his bike when he hears fast footsteps behind him, and he turns around so fast he almost gets whiplash.

“Kent,” Derek says, slightly out of breath. He must have been running, Kent realizes.

His hair is flat with rain and he's wearing a ridiculous oversized windbreaker, and he's still the most unfairly devastatingly person Kent has ever seen.

“You're here,” Kent says dumbly.

 _“You're_ here. I didn't think- _”_ Derek cuts himself off, steps closer. “I'm sorry I wasn't there... My parents surprised me at home and we went on a trip together and I meant to call you, but then I realized we never exchanged numbers and I couldn't-. I'm sorry.”

“It's fine,” Kent says automatically. “I thought maybe I did something wrong.”

Derek shakes his head vehemently. “You couldn't. Never.”

“Kit missed you,” Kent says.

Derek looks down at Kent's bike, where Kit has pushed her head through the gap just enough for her nose to be visible and smiles.

“I missed her, too,” he says. Then he turns back to Kent and tilts his head ever so slightly. “And you, Kent Parson? Did you miss me?”

Kent lets out a shuddery breath and goes for broke. “Every fucking second.”

Derek grins a little wider and steps even closer, close enough to put his hands over Kent's where they are holding onto the steering wheel of his bike.

“Me too,” he says. “I love my parents and I was so glad to see them, but all I could think about was how much I wanted to be here with you.”

The rain is still pouring, streaming down their faces, and Kent is soaked and cold, and so are Derek's lips on his. It's still the most perfect kiss Kent has ever had.

They hold onto each other a little longer, before Derek pulls back.

“We should get to somewhere dry,” he says.

Kent pulls him back in for another kiss.

“You're right,” he murmurs, not at all planning on moving away from this position anytime soon.

“I need to go put on something dry,” Derek says eventually. “But I'll come over after that?”

Kent nods and smiles, barely containing his joy. “I'll see you later,” he says, as Derek moves to walk away after kissing Kent one last time. It's both a greeting and a promise.

Derek winks. “Bye, Kit,” he says cheerfully, and starts jogging away from them.

Kent turns around on his bike and cycles away. From behind the clouds the sun starts to rise over the river, but he doesn't wait to watch it. He makes a note to buy some candles on the way home—pumpkin spice, maybe, to brighten up his house from the grey.

They have the entire day ahead of them.

**Author's Note:**

> This somehow became kind of autumn-y even though I'm writing in in the spring for KP's birthday in July and I completely blame [this post](http://jew-tube.tumblr.com/post/160675309526) for that.  
> 


End file.
